Mischief Managed
by Elsie girl
Summary: Fred managed to get into some mischief before the final battle, leaving behind someone pregnant with twins. How will the Weasleys' react when she tells them? How will she cope after the war? Just an idea I had. Worth a read. Reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling; this is written for entertainment purposes only, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

She stood away from the family during the service. They were a line of red hair on bowed heads and trembling torsos.

She struggled with the weight of the unfairness of it all. The Weasleys had all feared yet half expected a loss due to their numbers and commitment to the cause. There was something more than cruel in ending the life of the one who was perhaps most vibrant, in separating twins. Their only sister sobbed uncontrollably into Harry Potter's shoulder. The rest of the siblings looked pale and sickly. George looked incomplete, towering over his mother. It was hard to tell if he or the parents were suffering more.

He had caught sight of her a moment watching in the crowd just before they'd gone out to the gravesite, recognized her, but been moved onwards and distracted right away. They had shared no words, just a look.

Izzy felt a wrenching in her abdomen that made her draw a quick breath. She needed to calm down, she told herself. No matter what she was feeling, she needed to relax or she could cause something dreadful to happen.

Something somehow worse than what already had.

Izzy had not known Fred for very long. She'd met him a party, a secret one celebrating some tiny victory that was really an excuse to boost morale. They had a penchant for that, the twins. It was one of her first nights back in England, and she had known when she went out that night she was looking her best, one of those nights when things fall into place—the dress fits perfectly, hair cooperates, and you feel lovely, know you're beaming. Heads turn, smiles are returned easily.

She'd been introduced to them through a mutual friend, Lee Jordan, but the twin had been eyeing her from across the room all evening. He asked, well if you can call it asking, to dance right away. He had said, "I'm Fred Weasley. Dance with me, or I'll die straight away."

She laughed a wet sob at the memory. She had laughed then too, taking his hand. She wasn't one to go home with a man on the first night, but she felt safer with Fred than alone. She had nearly been late the next morning, she told him as she scrambled out of bed and he offered to make eggs, for a very important business meeting. An hour later, she had gone to her hotel room to get ready and managed to make it to an office very close by, only to have the door answered by a mischievously grinning Fred, his twin sat a table behind with a matching smirk.

Forgetting all professional decorum, she declared jokingly, "Oh, you two idiots!" At this, they laughed.

They were hot for her idea, treated her absolutely as an equal as she proposed it and they drew up contract specifics. There were no jokes when it came to discussions and no flirting. She knew when they shook hands on the deal and he asked her politely to join them for dinner to celebrate that she liked Fred Weasley more than she should.

Much more than she should. Nothing should hurt this badly.

She began to feel faint. She couldn't watch the rest, not even from afar. Some people were looking at her funny; they could be Fred's extended family for all she knew, his own flesh and blood. She had covered her face because she knew she was ugly crying now, snot rolling down her face, eyes red with tears. She was already too pale to look ashen. She spun and walked off, sinking down by a tree to sit. She looked out at the fields of his childhood home, a place he had never had the chance to bring her yet, though he had said he would, and she cried. Her large cloak fell open, but she didn't care that it exposed her swollen stomach.

She watched the guests angrily as they began to leave. They piled cards and candy and joke items and flowers at the Weasleys' door. The family slowly began to make their way inside. George and his mother were last, guided by Arthur Weasley, who looked too unsteady to be leading anybody anywhere.

Izzy was cold with fear. She was terrified that she would go up to George and he wouldn't recognize her for some reason or think she wanted something and tell her to leave them alone. Or worse, he'd explain she was just one of a dozen girls Fred dated, no one special, and he'd joked about marrying them all. But it was now or never. She approached him, the setting sun burning behind her.

He shielded his eyes when he saw her coming, trying to make out who it was. She wanted to look pretty, but there was no use bothering now, and perhaps that was best. Perhaps if he saw how upset she was, he might not be angry…

"George," She said softly, letting him chose to close the gap between them. He gently waved his parents on, standing silent before her with his hands in his pockets. She wished he would say something, though she had no right to want anything from him.

"Izzy," he breathed.

She could not say anything, so she hugged him.

"Why weren't you sitting with us?" He said into her hair, his voice sounding distant. She squeezed him hard.

"Oh, I—I couldn't I," She had stepped back trying to explain, unsure how to begin, but thank the heavens something happened. George's face came out of its dark empty state as his eyes widened. He placed a hand on her bump of a tummy without asking. Somehow, this otherwise awkward gesture made her feel better. He knew it was his brother's baby.

"You're carrying his child?"

She nodded, smiling through her tears. "Children."

His face lightened again, eyebrows up. "Twins."

He hugged her again, this time desperately. "A piece of him is still here."

"More than a piece." She squeezed him back, reminding him.

He let go shaking his head with a frown. "You should have been sitting with us."

"They don't even know me." She said quietly.

"_I_ know you," He took her chin gently, releasing it. "You could always tell us apart even when we were messing with you. Even Mum couldn't do that." He smiled sadly. "Did he know?"

"He only knew I thought I was, right before…" She swallowed, not wanting to say 'the battle'. "So it's not like, well, like I could have—"

"No," He stopped her. "No of course not."

They were silent for a minute as it began to get dark, standing a foot apart. An unusually cool wind came between them. Unconsciously, George leaned closer to her.

"He had joked." She choked on it. "You know Fred," She forced a smile. "He joked about eloping. Right after it was over. That's when I told him it would be good idea, if it turned out I was pregnant."

"He was happy, wasn't he?" Fred asked knowingly.

She nodded, tears falling again. "I guess so. He smiled."

"He told me I had to live, so I could be a witness at the ceremony. I wasn't going to tell you…didn't want to make it harder, but there's no point in that now."

"Maybe he meant it." She barely said, in a hopeful voice.

"He did." George looked down at her, very serious. "Fred Weasley did not talk about serious stuff like that, even as a joke. If he said it, he meant it. Come on," He took her elbow.

"W-what?"

"Meet the family."

"No, George! Not right now!"

He tugged her anyway. "Nope. Right now."

"George! No." She hissed as they neared the door. Immediate family only were behind those doors having a subdued, depressed meal. "They are grieving right now! They don't want to meet some…Merlin, I'm not even a proper girlfriend."

"You're more than that." He said, his voice un-George-like again. "Right now, you are the only person in the world who can make them feel any better. They just buried their son. They need you, and you need us, even if you don't know it yet."

She knew he was right. That's why she was there, wasn't it? George took her hand as she drew a deep, unsteady breath. It was like he was promising he wouldn't leave her. She squeezed to make sure he wouldn't.

He made eye contact, ducking as he opened the door for her. "I won't." He promised. She was surprised they had not actually said anything about the promise aloud.

The family looked up, a few small frowns or looks of confusion as George tugged in a young woman most of them had ever seen. His voice was hoarse from crying. "Oi, guys. I want you all to meet someone." Izzy's hand was trembling in George's. If he let go of her hand, she was going to collapse.

"This is someone who is going to brighten your day." The looked pointedly skeptical. "I met her through Fred. She should have been sitting with us really. Izzy is expecting. Twins." He grinned broadly, bouncing on his feet. She could have slapped her face. That was bad, George, very bad.

Trying very hard to be polite, a faint sounding Mr. Weasley offered a "Congratulations."

"Congratulations to you, Dad." George said. Suddenly, Izzy knew what was coming. "You're going to be a grandfather!"

If possible, everyone paled even further. Mrs. Weasley strode towards her. The younger woman actually felt afraid. The matriarch was a formidable woman. All eyes were on them. Izzy was not sure what was coming. Would she slap her?

George let go to stand behind her.

Searching Izzy's face, Molly Weasley said, "It—is it Fred's?"

Izzy shook her head yes, hearing a gasp around the room. She kept her eyes on Molly's. "You can check, if you want." She offered. She wanted to offer before they asked. It would hurt, she knew, when they had the logical doubts—this girl coming forward they had never met, claiming their dead, hero son had fathered her illegitimate children. And they would ask to make sure she wasn't a liar, or so promiscuous she was mistaken.

Molly extended her hand to the lower abdomen, and Izzy stiffened in anticipation of the spell. "No need to check, dear." Molly smiled, actually smiled. George pinched her elbow playfully behind her as if to say 'I told you so'.

"Isolde, is it?" Izzy shook her head yes, cursing her emotional eyes for watering. She was not the sniffle-y type. "And you're sure it's twins?" Again, she nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. Her eyes grew wide as Mrs. Weasley burst into renewed tears and hugged the girl tightly. Izzy was clearly mortified. She had not meant to upset her!

But George pulled his mother off, "You're frightening her, mum. Let her breathe!"

"I'm sorry. It's just. Oh, I –I can't believe. Grandchildren and Fred's."

"Isolde?" Mr. Weasley stuck out his hand, looking to have regained a bit of his color. He closed his other hand around hers gingerly. "Congratulations. Thank you so much for …. well, for," He struggled unsure why he was thanking her exactly or how to do it. Instead, he demanded kindly, "Now, what do you need?"

"Oh," She said more shyly than she had ever. "Oh I'm—"

He put up a hand to stop her. "No, no. You and those babies will have everything you need, make no mistake. We've done this a few time before." He winked, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Weasley said. "Your parents, dear. Are they near?"

"Oh no, ma'am. They're um,"

"Izzy doesn't have family mum, she's a bit of loaner, well except for Fred. She's done business with us, see? That's how she met Fred." She mentally thanked George for the fib. "You know those little communication devices based on muggle technology, dad? That was Izzy."

"Really?" He said, wide-eyed and even somewhat eager, considering how exhausted he was with grief.

"She's a regular genius." George declared. He was her hero at the moment.

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" Mr. Weasley asked, having clearly never heard of an Izzy.

"Nah," George answered for her, swiftly changing the subject, "but she can tell you about that later. Let me introduce you to everyone else." He guided her around the table, but she noticed Arthur's eyes never left her. They were wet with tears but there was something else there too. Pride.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for any errors. I edited this briefly myself and probably missed something. I have pre written the first few chapters and will post more if you're interested. Please take a second to review and share your thoughts. Thanks again.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

"This is Ginny," George pointed to his dear, little sister. "You've met briefly."

"Hey." Said Ginny softly, her head on Harry Potter's shoulder. He looked uncomfortable, but Izzy didn't think it was from the weight.

"And that's Harry, of course."

"How do you do? Congratulations." He offered politely, but quiet.

She didn't know what to say to Harry as she shook his hand, so she offered a soft, "Thank you." She hoped he knew what she meant. He nodded.

"Bill and his wife, Fleur."

The eldest Weasley, a bit scarred, nodded at her. Fleur reached her first and kissed her cheek, a welcoming gesture which Izzy graciously returned. "Congratulations." She said sincerely.

"Thank you."

Bill extended his hand. "I think we've met." He said, setting down his glass of whiskey. "In Cairo." She thought hard, trying to place his face. He did not look his excited self; between that and the scars, she had barely recognized him.

"Oh." She recalled. "Oh yes. How—" She stopped. She knew exactly how he was doing. She couldn't exactly say it was good to see him again either. "I remember." She said, not wanting to leave the other question hanging.

Another brother stood to greet her.

"Percy." George explained.

"Hello." Percy offered, his tone a bit clipped.

"Hello, Percy." She returned, trying to smile. For some reason, Percy looked surprised.

"Ron and Hermione." No explanation was needed. She knew who they were, as did everyone by now. Hermione was looking after the youngest Weasley man staring at the floor.

"Hey," He attempted. Hermione couldn't form any words at first. She alone seemed to grasp the position Izzy was in—stranded, grief stricken, and an outsider.

"I saw you." Hermione surprised her by saying. "In the infirmary." She added quietly. Izzy nodded to confirm she'd helped heal the other girl. She did not fight, though. She was more useful in the infirmary and then there was her condition.

"And here's Charlie." George concluded. They had almost missed him, back to them in a corner of the dining room.

The next to oldest Weasley brother turned. "Nice to meet you."

"And you." She returned. Charlie did not say much but eyed her hand that still clutched George's.

"Are you hungry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Oh no, Mrs. Weasley, please. You shouldn't be looking after me."

"Nonsense." Mrs. Weasley wiped her face and went to the kitchen to busy herself.

Without thinking, Izzy's eyes looked to Fleur and Hermione for help. The other two leapt into action.

"We'll get some plates out and everyone can take something from what was sent." Hermione offered.

"I can make tea." Fleur informed her mother-in-law in a dulcet accent.

"You sit." Mrs. Weasley took Izzy's shoulders and all but shoved her into a chair. "Tell me about yourself."

Izzy bit her lip. Mr. Weasley had subtly pulled George aside. They were talking, but George wouldn't go so far that he could not keep an eye on Izzy.

"Please." Molly Weasley added. "It will make me feel better, I think."

"In that case, what would you like to know?" She conceded.

"Well, if you did not go to Hogwarts, were did you go?"

She knew this was going to be first. She bit the inside of her mouth. "Well, I went to Order of Isis Conservatory—"

Hermione let out a little gasp. "Really?"

"I don't know much about that." Mrs. Weasley said. "Thank you, dear." She accepted the tea. Izzy took hers as well.

"It's the most secretive and possibly the oldest of all the magical schools, according to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe." _Hermione babbled. "Supposedly near Egypt."

"That's right," Percy spoke. "I remember the tour guide told us something about it on our tour, remember?" Izzy had a guess what they had said about her school on the tour; she knew the rumors.

"Oh yes." Fred's mother could ask nothing further as they were joined, but Izzy noted Hermione's eye on her, curious to know more. Mr. Weasley took his seat at the head of the table.

"Now, Izzy," He paused here as if to see if his use of her pet name was alright. She nodded for him to continue. "George tells me you're the mind behind that clever note paper. What was the inspiration behind that?"

"Yes, it was based on the usefulness of instant messages. Muggles can use devices to send written messages instantaneously. I thought it might be useful to have small rolls of parchment which when you write on one the message appears on its twin, but becomes invisible unless a specific word is murmured to make it reveal its contents…and once you write a message, its disappears from the writer's parchment."

"Ah yes. I believe we've been using them in the secret Order in the fight against,"

"Yes, Fred said we would wait to release them so no one would know or be able to use them against us. I agreed."

"Those were brilliant!" Hermione said.

"Thank you."

"Are you living in London?" Arthur too accepted a cup of tea.

"I was." She swallowed her own, suspecting it had a calming draught.

"Izzy is staying with me at mine and Fred's place." George announced. "I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm not staying alone." The room was quiet a moment at that.

"Well, you're both welcome here, whenever you like." Mrs. Weasley assured them.

"Thank you." Izzy said into her tea.

"So how did you and Fred meet?" Ginny asked.

"Well, through business," She went along with George's partially true story. After all, she had met Ginny at the shop. "But, he said if I didn't dance with him," She stopped short of the funny story. All eyes were on her, waiting. She couldn't say it, the punch line, because he was gone. He was really gone. And despite her unemotional nature and her determination to be considerate only to their feelings, she burst into tears.

Immediately, she wanted to hide it- the fact that her nose was pouring mucus and her throat was making such a weird sound it had made everyone jump. She covered her face, makeup smearing everywhere, and leapt up from her chair as if something had pinched her, heading so quickly towards the door she did not realize she was walking towards a wall. She changed direction and nearly slipped, rushing out into the yard.

She had attempted to blurt her apologies, but it came out more as gurgling. What right had she too dissolve in front of them?

She could, however, dissolve in front of complete strangers. She turned on the spot and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, trying to outrun her embarrassment. It was only after she stepped through that doorway and into confetti that she realized she couldn't drink. She was pregnant.

She supposed she could go to her room. With a sigh, she headed up the stairs. Careful to place a silencing charm on the thin door, she slammed it shut behind her, frustrated with herself for making such a terrible first impression, for being selfish, and angry that she felt like she had never told Fred how much she loved him, not really. Of all people to lose… it just wasn't fair.

And it's not as if she could ever forget him, not with two children by him and a brother that looked almost exactly like him. But maybe, she thought, the twins would look like her. Maybe at least one of them would. Perhaps they weren't even identical. And she did not have to look a George for the rest of her life, she realized.

She could leave England.

Honestly, having been away at school for so long, she was surprised to find herself such an outsider. People knew each other from Hogwarts, unless they were from abroad of course, but she was not. She was from Winchester for Merlin's sake, one of the most English of all places. She had no real family to see and no one knew of her. Being pregnant, she had only healed others at the battle, nothing of note, though the last thing she wanted for fame.

Oh no. She got a flash of the news article on her, the woman left behind by the fallen hero to bear his twins.

She had absolutely no idea what she was doing with twins, though. And Fred's family could help; they could tell the children about their father too. They had been so nice, so welcoming, like they needed her.

But what would happen if she ever, young as she was, started seeing someone else? It would happen eventually, right?

She gulped.

Could she raise twins on her own? No. But could she spend her days and nights surrounded by this family who would always know Fred better than her, always speak about his absence, where his picture and his sweaters and smell and twin would always linger, haunting her? Definitely not.

She stopped, unaware she'd been pacing.

No, she needed to leave. She'd taken care of herself before, and she could do it again. She threw open her trunk and began to pack. Well, it was not so much packing and more throwing things in frenzy.

There was knock at the door, which she ignored.

There was another knock.

Sighing, she crossed the room and opened the door to tell whoever it was she did not want anything to eat. "No thank you. I'm not hungry." She snapped as she opened it.

To her horror, Arthur Weasley was standing on her threshold, eyebrows raised. "You sure? You should eat something."

"M-Mr. Weasley?" She stuttered.

"Izzy," He greeted friendly. "Mind if I come in?"

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in, though she really wanted to say she did mind and was just leaving, thanks, good luck, goodbye.

He surveyed the room, well the mess. "Going somewhere?" He asked innocently.

She thought about lying and saying it was pixies. Not entirely impossible in this place, but she said nothing, just swallowed hard. He turned to face her, hands in his pockets. He searched her face as he leaned on the poster of the bed, his sadness creeping back in starting with his glimmering eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir. I had no right to—I can't imagine what you're feeling. I just—" He held up one hand to ask her to stop. Staring at the floor and clearing his throat, it seemed to take some effort to say what he wanted. She remained perfectly still and silent to make it easier.

"Don't." He said. "Please don't. You have a right to feel... whatever loss you're are feeling. To be honest, it's a relief knowing you loved my son. I'm sorry that you are in this situation, that you did not get to experience what you both deserved." He seemed unable to continue. "Did he know?" He barely breathed the question.

She nodded. "He joked," her own voice sounded dry. "He wanted to elope after it was over."

"That sounds like Fred. In love. Living life to the fullest. Being rash. It would have infuriated his mother, so I'm sure he would have done it." They both laughed a little at that. "Would you?"

She was surprised by the question, but answered automatically. "Of course." He nodded, satisfied for a moment. The certainty of her answer seemed to surprise her more than him.

He pushed off from the bed. "You don't owe us anything, not any of us. But don't think that you're own your own in this because you're not. We can help. We want to help. If Fred was not here, and you were not pregnant, we'd still want to know you. If Fred was here, we'd still want to help look after those babies."

She nodded.

"George said you might be thinking of doing something impulsive," He glanced at the trunk on the bed vomiting clothes. She looked down, a bit ashamed of herself. "I suppose you had that in common with my son."

He took a few steps towards her. "When I said I was going after you myself, George told me to give you this." He handed her an envelope. She recognized the handwriting—how many times had she seen his signature or a note for her— and clutched it away hungrily, unable to look at it right then. "He was waiting for a later, but I think you should read it before you do anything. I'll tell you what I told Fred a hundred times." He took her shoulders lightly and a deep breath. "Sleep on it. Now, I don't know what that says, but I do know if you're as much like Fred as I think, I won't be able to talk you out of anything, but he might."

She nodded again. "Thank you." And to her profound surprise and a tad embarrassment, he lightly kissed her forehead.

He let himself out as she stood there. She let herself sink to the floor. Alright, she told herself, hanging onto the bed with one hand. Here she was humiliated, in a hovel, sitting on the floor. She was broken hearted. She was pregnant with twins, alone. She had hit rock bottom.

Izzy resolved with an unsteady breath to let herself have the most bitter, most pathetic, most desperate cry she had ever had ever. There was no low she would not stoop to—any sound she wanted to make, any form her body wanted to wrench itself into was fair game. It would be loud and messy and ugly. Then, it would be over. She would let herself think about all the things she should have said, all the times they could have had together, how handsome he was, what he smelled like, felt like, kissed like, every memory they did have, how unfair it all was, exactly how far she would go to get him back, if there were any way...and then she would stand up, dust herself off, and pull herself together.

Hormones or no hormones, she would keep her wits from now on. One pity party, that's what she got. That's what she deserved.

She could have stopped this, she told herself, if she had told him not to fight, or begged him not to, or been there at his side, or met his family properly before when he'd invited her for Christmas instead of ducking out, or not gone home with him after a party, or slept with at all and gotten pregnant, or if she'd just fallen in love with someone normal!

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading an especially to those who took the time leave a review! It was exciting to hear people were curious about this idea. I have prewritten a few chapters of this, but can only really continue if I know people are interested, so please take a minute to review and let me know.

I do hope you enjoyed the Weasleys. So now for her big decision...and what's in the envelope?!

Yours, Elsie


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Please see first chapter. No rights. No income generated. Entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

_Dear Izzy,_

_I hate these kind of letters, so I hope this is a waste of my time. If it's not, though, and if something happens to me, there are some things you deserve to know. First, I do love you. I know I say it jokingly but that's because it scares me senseless. How's that, Iz? You scare me more than Voldyshorts. See? I make jokes when I'm scared shitless. Well, I make jokes other times as well. Actually, it's how I feel when I'm around you that scares me most— like we have the same mind, like I'm not nuts to believe in long shots and instincts, and like I never want to make another stupid mistake or wild risk again in case I might lose you. _

_I'm sorry I have to do this. Harry, my family, the Order all need as much help as they can get. We need to end these bastards once and for all. If we lose, I want you to leave, go back to Egypt, go anywhere safe. I don't think we'll lose, though. I really think we'll win, and when we do, I'm going to marry you. I hope you're okay with that because if I ask and you don't say you'll marry me, I'll die straight away._

_Remember that? I asked you to dance. The night we first met. I do, and Iz, it was the best night. And I have had some very good nights. _

_Anyway, I want you to know I'm serious, so check my office. That's where I left the tickets for our honeymoon. Take the trip with or without me, love. Trust me, just do it. And if you need anything ever, if you need help, go to my family—any of them. You can always trust them and they will love you too. _

_If I can't be there, forgive me. And don't worry. I know you love me too. I already bought the tickets, remember? _

_How else could you put up with me? _

_Take care of yourself, Isolde Moran. _

_Enough of that,_

_Fred Weasley. _

Fred was not on to talk about his feelings any more than Izzy, but he had actually managed to say everything. Everything she needed to hear was in that letter for her to read as many times as she wanted.

Fred and his father's words reminded her after her crying fit and heaving in the toilet that she should eat. She ordered some soup, thankfully potato. Then she fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from the cry; it took longer than she thought.

When she finally woke, her head hurt like hung over. She groaned, rolling over in her bed still dressed in the dress from yesterday. She got rid of it, balling it up. She almost threw it in her bag, but thought better of it. She threw it in the trash bin instead.

She was not a breakfast person, but she had a nagging hunger and a nagging guilt to eat. She gave in, grabbing a pastry on the way to the office. She took care of a few things in her own before picking the lock on the brothers.

She started by looking but she couldn't see anything in view, so she began flipping through some papers on the desk, thumbing through his mail. There was nothing. No note. Maybe the tickets weren't there. Maybe he had forgotten about them. Maybe he changed his mind.

_I want you to know I'm serious. I know you loved me too._

Nothing in the rubbish bin either!

_It was the best night…. And I have had some very good nights. _

Nothing tacked to the board.

"Accio, tickets!" Nothing.

_"__I'm Fred Weasley. If you don't dance with me, I'll die straight away."_

* * *

It _was_ the best night. The air had been cool outside but hot down in the basement where the party was held. Tiny lights circled in the form of a chandelier, and a few torches burned low, giving the room a pleasant glow. She had a few drinks, danced all night to a mix of muggle and wizard music, and the twins had her laughing until her ribs and face hurt, telling the story after story of their antics as they and some friends shared a corner. Fred had not been able to keep his eyes off her, oblivious to the number of girls trying to fawn all over him. It made her grin incessantly.

She grew sleepy, but kept smiling. Her head lulled, falling on Fred's shoulder before she realized. His long fingertips gently brushed her bare upper arm as he slid an arm around her. She sat up, realizing she was dozing on him.

"Sorry," She offered shyly.

"Don't be." He breathed in earnest.

"I should probably go." She said it slowly, batting her eyelashes. It was late or early.

"I'll walk you out." She was close enough to hear his heart hammering.

"Would you actually? It's not safe."

He nodded. "Mate, I'm going to take her back to her place."

His brother nodded. "Want company?"

"I think we've got it. Shall we?" He offered his arm gallantly.

In the street, the wind whipped up her dress. Thankfully, she kept it in place with a spell. She always liked the way fall smelled, the way muggle city lights shone, the way her breath fogged a little. She enjoyed the cool against her warm skin, waking her up from a happy stupor.

"How do you walk in those?" Fred pointed to her heels.

"They're charmed." She told him with her coy half smile.

"I never heard of that charm."

"I made it up." He raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Doesn't keep them from hurting though."

"Take them off if they are uncomfortable."

"No."

"Go ahead." He laughed. "I know a spell too." She stopped, holding his shoulder to steady as she took them off. Wordlessly, he cast a spell. Her feet warmed and she felt as if there was a thing layer of between her and the ground, protecting her.

"Thank you. You're like a hero." She smiled. Her hand was on his shoulder still. He shook his hair, grinning. She had to get up on her toes to reach his lips. He tasted sweet.

He hand snaked an arm around her neck then shoulder, cradling her body against his tall, warm form as the kiss deepened. Their figures pressed together perfectly, hot against the breeze kicking up. There was a noise; they broke apart immediately, searching the street, wands out. Only a few people were headed up or down the sidewalk, not even glancing at them.

But they knew one of them had a wand. She could feel his arm still protective on her, ready to maneuver his body between her and wherever the threat was.

"We should keep walking." She whispered. Muggles might notice something.

They walked on, his arm around her waist protectively, her shoes in her hand. Their pace was fast, determined, but his legs were longer. He was pulling her by the hand before long. "Fred!" She panted, and before she knew it, he had pulled them into an alley. She was against the wall, him in front of her, shielding her body.

She stuck her wand out in front of him, hitting the figures that rounded the corner first. She stunned one, he the other. She took their wands and they vanished soundlessly. "Nice one." He breathed, not moving from his spot. "Watcher. They always come in groups."

"I know." They waited. He turned, his face looking not angry, not fearful, but sad.

"You okay?" He asked.

"I am now." She had not meant anything by it. She had just said it, her face warm. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" He was already taking off his jacket.

She stopped him with one hand. "Can I stay with you?" He eyes were serious. "I think they might follow me."

He nodded, leading them carefully back onto the street. "One condition."

"Yes?" She said, realizing she as going home with a stranger.

"You can't take advantage of me tonight. I've had a few." He joked with a shake of his head.

She laughed, slapping his arm as she continued barefoot behind him. Her laugh fogged before them.

* * *

No. He said the tickets were there, then they had to be there. "Accio Izzy's … stuff!" Nothing. Her heart was hammering away as she made the decision to yank the drawer open. She was rummaging through his unorganized desk when the voice startled her.

"Looking for something?"

She whipped around, wand out. George put his palms up from where he leaned on the door.

"Sorry." She lowered it.

"You're not the only who's jumpy. I woke up to my wards going off, as if someone were breaking into my office. Turns out, it was just you."

"Just me breaking in." She added, but it didn't stop her from seizing their stuff.

"It's not breaking in if you're welcome. Can I help you find anything?" He walked up behind her.

"The letter… he said he left something…" She yanked open another drawer, but it was stuck. "I can't get this damn thing…"

A hand on her wrist stopped her, a familiar hand. She closed her eyes. Seeming to understand, he let go. He held out another hand, this one with two muggle envelopes. "These?"

She looked up at them, taking them. She breathed a sigh of relief. "He really got them."

George nodded, but he kept them away from her reach. He furrowed his brow a little. "I don't think you should go alone."

Izzy knew he was right, of course, but she was used to looking out for herself. Until that moment, no one had told her, though to be fair he had not told her, what she ought or ought not to do. The twins had treated her as an equal.

"I'm pregnant." She snapped. "Not crippled."

To her surprise, George laughed. It somehow sounded strange by itself, though still pleasant. She smiled, her anger dissipating. "I know that. You're funny when you're pregnant."

"You mean a wreck with no control of myself." She insulted herself.

"Basically." He teased. "I promised him I'd look out for you. There are still dangers out there."

"Well, I do have two tickets." She shrugged. "I don't really have girlfriends and you're about the only guy I could take."

He nodded.

"I know you probably want to be with your family right now." She began.

"No. I don't at all." He said frankly, shaking the hair into his eyes. "And I don't think they need to look at me all the time at the moment."

"Maybe if we go, they can focus on themselves, then be glad to see us when we get back." She caught the hopeful notes in her own voice.

He raised an eyebrow. It might not even be true, but it would be a reason to leave. "Well, I can't let you go alone."

"No you can't." She sighed. "And I just can't stay here." He stared at her. She wasn't sure if he understood or not.

"I cannot believe you sent your father after me." She prodded him the ribs, unsure. "He's adorable. You knew I couldn't say no to him."

"I thought you might run. If he lost you, Fred would run. He'd be here for important stuff, but then he'd be gone."

"My bags are packed." She admitted.

"I'll grab something and some money and meet you at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour." He said, heading to the door. "You know, Fred was fond of muggle lock picking too." He fingered the doorknob absentmindedly.

"I know."

"Would you like anything else from here?"

She shook her head. "It's yours."

"We would have shared him. And these kids are his, they get his half. I won't listen to anything about it." He said firmly. "For them."

Reluctantly, she agreed.

"Meet you in one hour." He repeated. She followed him down the stairs and outside where he locked things up, and walked off down the street.

The store would be closed, she realized. George said nothing of it, though for a moment she worried. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It would be closed in respect to Fred, and when it re-opened it would be with new products on a new, free wizarding world. George would likely not work for a while anyway.

She had her own arrangements to make. First, the bank. Second, she returned to her hotel room to arrange her things and send a couple owls. She checked out and found George at the back, avoiding people. She scooted into the booth.

George slid some chips her way and half a sandwich. "Eat." She did not like being bossed, like she would starve herself and babies, but she gave her friend the benefit of a doubt. Maybe he just didn't want to speak.

"You know, you don't have to go with me. We don't have to go at all."

"He told you to go; he told me to look after you. He knew we'd need this."

"You really think he thought it through that much?"

"No," he admitted in a scoff. "But he always had good instincts."

She resigned herself to her tea and chips, or what she could manage anyway. She was feeling sick again. It was never in the morning-misnomer really, 'morning sickness'. She always got queasy around that time of afternoon. She pushed the food away. George looked at her protectively. "I feel a little queasy. Trust me, you don't want me to force that down, or it will force its way back up."

George nodded obediently, widening his eyes in understanding. "You know I've been thinking," He took a sip of his butterbeer. "Of all the great things you're going to invent for pregnant witches."

"There's really a surprisingly lack of stuff out there. You guys loved my heels that keep you from falling and breaking your ankle."

"Exactly," He winked. "We know what tricksters need, but you see the needs of ladies. Keep your creative eyes open."

"So," She reached across him and grabbed one of the envelopes. "Where are we going, Fred?" She asked aloud, exhaling nervously. They exchanged a look, then opened them at the same time.

She read it twice. From beside her, she heard, "Are you bloody kidding me?"

* * *

A/N: I just want to say thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites, and for reading! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter- what did you think of the letter? The flashback? Where do you think they are going?!  
Please take a second to review. I'd really love to hear your thoughts!

Yours,

Elsie


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I make no profit.

* * *

A/N: First, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I wasn't sure how many were interested in a story like this; let's face it, it's a bit different, and most of us like the pretend Fred Weasley never died. Your reviews make my day. Second, sorry for the delay. I made this chapter a little longer for you. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

"Well," She spoke after a moment, swallowing her tea. "We don't _have_ to go."

"I don't even," George shook his head, looking at the tickets again. "Are these muggle tickets?"

She nodded.

"Do you know how to …use these?" He asked.

"Fortunately. I had to a couple times for work." Passing as a muggle had been an awkward thing to learn. At one point, her supervisor had actually asked someone to excuse her as she was 'a little slow', earning her a sympathetic smile and pat from a total stranger.

"Right." He gulped his beer, still not moving.

"Look, it's probably just a joke. You know Fred." She stood, pitying her lover's twin. Clearly, he did not want to go. George took hold of her wrist, though, his eyes still focused forward.

"Oh, I know Fred alright, and it's not a joke; it's a dare."

She blinked a moment. He had a point. George would do it then if it were a dare, she knew he would. "So what's the problem then?"

"Bloody git knows I'm scared of muggle aero planes." He mumbled.

"They're airplanes, George. And what do you mean you're scared of flying?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!"

"You play quidditch! You fly all the time."

"This is different," He said defensively. "It's all…mechanical. Can't we go another way? Apparate?"

She shook her head. "You know we can't. Neither of us have ever been there. Besides, it's too risky. There's no floo, and we don't have a portkey, so it's the big metal bird or we don't go."

"We're going." He said seriously, taking the dare. "But first, I'm going to need some stronger liquid courage." He headed for the bar.

"Oh, no you don't." She pulled him back by the back of his shirt. "I'm not getting on a plane with you getting sick."

"That's rich-"

"And besides, we don't have time. We've got to make it to the airport!"

George gulped. "Okay," He said with determination, grabbing their trunks. "Let's do this. I've got these," he insisted on carrying their trunks. "You lead the way."

Ignoring her queasiness, Izzy strode boldly out of the pub and in the direction of the nearest tube station. She stared at the color-coded map and moment, following the lines zigging and zagging all over. George looked more like his father, fascinated by the network of tunnels and trains. He was practically gawking.

"Right. I think that's us." She said, turning on her heel.

She hurried through the throng with George in tow down to the platform where their train was waiting. They hopped on it just in time, minding the gap.

"Hold on." She told him, grabbing onto a metal bar.

"What?" He asked. A second later he was thrown over their trunks and into a small old gentleman in a suit. She sniggered at his fumble.

"Tourists." Some woman remarked disapprovingly.

George embarrassedly brushed his hair from his eyes, standing up and taking hold. "Sorry." He told the older man. He joined Izzy's laughter a moment later.

For a few minutes they looked at each other and around the train, not knowing where to look. Once they arrived at their stop, the two hopped off and Izzy grabbed her own bag.

"I'm not crippled." She told him, sipping off to the side where no one was looking. "Try this."

She used a spell she'd seen her boss use to transfigure wheels to the bottom of their trunks. "Now they roll." He demonstrated.

"Brilliant." He wagged his ginger eyebrows. And then they were off through greyish white tunnels from the tube into the airport. "We've got to hide our wands in our bags." She told him regretfully as they got close. "They search us."

"Why?" He asked.

"Long story. Anyway, it will be the muggle way from here on out and—oh no! You haven't got a muggle passport!"

"You think I can pass for him?" He pretended to be worried, holding up the passport Fred had made.

She smiled, slipping her own out from the envelope. "You just might."

After checking their bags—which Izzy _may_ have made lighter with a spell—the pair queued up for security.

"I feel weird without my wand." He whispered.

"Tell me about it." She murmured back. "Take off your shoes."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up as he gave her a questioning look.

"Take off your shoes. Hurry!"

It was their turn, and a security officer with bushy eyebrows was waiting impatiently. Fred pulled off his shoes as told, following her lead through metal detectors with a look of apprehension on his face that made her laugh. As they collected their belongings and hurried out of the way, he whispered, "That was bloody weird."

The shops and fast food places pulled George towards them like he was spelled. "We don't have time." She told him.

"But I've heard about this Scottish bloke's place before!" He insisted. "McDonalds."

She rolled her eyes, pulling him towards their gate and glancing at the clock. The smell of food was making her sick. She felt like her stomach was swimming only the rest of her was not. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she was forced to duck and dart to the nearest restroom sign. She made it just in time. Small favors.

After heaving over a toilet seat she was trying desperately not even to touch and washing her hands, she wandered shakily into the hall again looking for George. Not for the first time she was glad he was a red head, for she spotted his ginger mop easily bobbing around under the golden arches.

"You alright?" He asked, shoving chips into his mouth. She nodded, looking away from the food. "Got you some juice." He offered. The cold apple juice gave remarkable relief. It cleaned the sick taste from her mouth and cooled her sweaty body.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"You had better finish that. We can't take it over there. We've got to hurry." Something caught her eye. "I'll be right back." She told him.

The little shop was overpriced, but the muggle money in her envelope was well spent on the disposable camera. "Forget yours at home?" The lady asked at the register.

"You could say that." She replied coyly.

Crossing back over, she snapped a picture of her companion as he scarfed the rest of his food down with amazing speed. "Wha?" He said, mouth still full. "That was amazing. I'm already having a good time." His face fell a little then.

"It's okay to have a good time. It's what he wanted." She said quietly as George threw out his rubbish. She recognized the guilt she was trying to bury inside her.

"But it's _his_ good time. He should be here." She felt herself tearing up again, damn hormones, damn war. "Never mind," George wrapped a friendlily arm around her. "We have a dare to do."

* * *

Moments later, they were standing in line by a long window, staring at the massive thing that was going to lift them into the air and across the sea. She had seen George before the battle, but she had never seen him so white with fear. "What. The hell. Was I thinking?"

She giggled. "It will be fine. I promise."

"How does that thing fly?" He pointed at it, skeptical. "It's too heavy. This is mad!"

"It works. I swear." She laughed.

He shook his head in disbelief and said nothing else. His hand was trembling when he handed over his boarding pass. That part always made her nervous. She felt like a spy who was going to discovered any minute by the muggles…and she had no wand to confound them.

Silently, she took George's hand and squeezed it reassuringly as they walked down the tunnel ramp. "Don't look down." She warned him.

"What?" He asked, but they were already over the threshold, being greeted by the cute flight attendant.

"Never mind." She told him "G. G. G. We're here." She told him. "Want the window?"

"Alright." He agreed unsure.

"Good. I don't want trample you on the way to the loo."

George wiggled in his seat, anxiously looking around the cabin and out across the tarmac as they prepared for take-off. "It's magic. They just don't know it." He remarked mostly to himself. "It has to be."

George paid close attention to the safety briefing. Izzy rolled her eyes. Her boss had told her it was all nonsense anyway. If we go down, apparate, he'd said. She did not spoil his fun, though. It was distracting at least.

There was nothing to distract him as they began down the tarmac, racing then zooming forward. There was rush that put pressure in the ears, made the stomach lurch. Everything passed by too fast. They trembled with the sheer speed. George was white again, squeezing Izzy's knee a little too hard.

She would have said something to comfort him, but if she opened her mouth she was going to be sick all over him. Clearly, Fred had planned this trip without any clue she'd be pregnant on it.

"Bloody hell!" He swore when the pressure stopped. They could feel it—the lift. And then, they were flying. It puzzled them both how everyone else barely seemed to notice, or care.

"Check this out." She nudged George. Trying to remember how it worked, she tapped the screen in front of her.

Two hours later, George was annoying practically everyone in view, enthusiastically cursing and tapping his jewel game on the screen. "Take a break." She giggled, pulling his hand away. She realized she was holding it. He gave her a friendly squeeze and smile.

Sighing, he set back, or tried to sit back. "It reclines." She told him, trying to do it for him. "There."

"I'm not reclined."

"Well, it doesn't do it much."

He reclined then un reclined, then reclined again. "It's the same." He insisted. "Wow. We're really high." He looked out the window. "See? I've enver been this high before. Flying isn't so bad."

He glanced at the clock. "How much longer?"

"Er, about….ten hours?"

"TEN HOURS?!"

* * *

Eight hours later, after a scrunched up, bumpy, pathetic excuse for a nap, Izzy and George (or Fred as far as National Security was concerned) put their heads together, literally. They had to put their heads together to share the little ear things so they could hear their muggle film on the tiny screen in front of them. Most of it made little sense, but it was pretty funny.

"Why are we watching this again?" George asked as the cartoons began singing again.

"Research." She joked.

Again, they tried to smother their sniggering, much to the annoyance of the man in front of them with the ugly tie and the briefcase. The flight attendant headed over their way.

"Uh-oh." George poked her. "You got us in trouble."

"Anything else I can get for you crazy kids?" The cute brunette winked.

"Another ginger ale, please." George was quick to ask. Izzy rolled her eyes.

"Me too please." She smiled. "It really helps with the nausea."

The attendant gave Izzy an interested look, who started when she felt George's hand on stomach. "Oh!" The flight attendant raised her eyebrows. "You're expecting?" In the dark cabin, several heads turned. An older woman smiled at Izzy. "Boy or girl?"

"No idea." Izzy shrugged, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"Twins." George smiled wickedly, his hand still on her. She stared at his face. There was something in it, radiating off of it. Pride. How strange, Izzy thought.

"Congrats. I'll just go grab your drink."

George finally removed his hand. The flight attendant was back in no time. "Here you are." She smiled. "Visiting family?"

"Honeymoon." George answered. The other woman nearly squealed with excitement. Izzy shot the devilish, grinning monkey daggers.

"So exciting! Have a great time!"

"Thanks." He waved. "We will."

"You know," She mumbled. "If we are supposed to be on our honeymoon, you probably shouldn't be staring at her ass."

"Jealous type, babe?" He teased. It was going to be a long flight.

* * *

It was a _long_ flight.

"Upright and locked position, Izzy." George reminded her as the prepared for landing.

"Yes, dear." She sighed.

"Look!" He pointed outside. The view was marvelous as they ripped through the clouds, the land below looking charming and green from that height.

It was a wobbly landing, but not too bad. They were stiff and smelled like the plane as they finally disembarked. George might have been entertained by the luggage ramp—she kind of liked it—if he had not been getting cranky. Food about five thousand feet was unimpressive, frankly.

"Now what?" He asked as they exited the airport. That she did not know. She wiggled her nose, looking around. There were plenty of muggle taxis, but where would they tell one to go?

And then she saw it, the sleek black car as long as two or three others with black windows. A man in a funny suit stood at its door holding a sign. "Weasley." It read. How many Weasleys could there be?

She nudged her friend next to her and pointed. "Excuse me?" George approached. The man, she noticed, seemed bothered to speak to them until he pulled out ID and said "I'm Fred Weasley."

"Wonderful." The man suddenly smiled, opening the door. "Please, sir, madam."

Unsure, they shared a glance. "I'll take your bags." He assured them, reaching for them. "Congratulations! Just relax."

"Er..thanks." George nodded and held out a hand indicating that Izzy should climb into the dark, mobile little cavern before them. That seemed to go against her instincts but if he could fly, she guessed she could climb inside this thing.

It was comfortable with smooth seats. She stretched her legs out the way her body hand wanted to for hours. Even George could let his long legs free, sitting sideways.

"You'll have to move when the others get in." She told him.

"I don't think there will be others." He told her.

"What? This things sits like ten people!"

"It's a limousine. I think Fred got the whole thing for you."

She examined the low lit, lengthy cab. There were champagne flutes out, chocolate covered strawberries chilling next to an unopened bottle.

"Think he'll mind?" George wagged his eyebrows.

As if on cue, a window rolled down behind her head. "Music?" The driver asked.

George looked to Izzy. "Sure." She shrugged. The driver switched on some lightly tinkling piano.

"Say, friend," George called to him. "Mind if we partake of this spread?" He was already rummaging and found some brie cheese and crackers.

"Not at all, sir." The man said. "Help yourself." And he disappeared behind his untouched window again. Weird, Izzy thought.

"No champagne for you, sorry love." He told her, pouring her some orange juice. She took a strawberry and finished the entire store of cheese, feeling her appetite return with a vengeance. Too soon, the ride ended.

When they stepped out at the massive hotel, it was much brighter. Izzy blinked in surprise beginning to wonder if George was right about the magic.

A bell boy with a funny hat took their stuff, and again George gave Fred's name to the snobby man at the desk. He received a smile and a key. "Yes, yes welcome."

"I'm starting to feel," he whispered into her ear as they stepped inside the elevator, tickling her. "Like my twin had another secret identity." She giggled.

* * *

As the man opened the door to their massive room, Izzy felt her eyes grow wide.

"Enjoy," the employee said as he shut to leave them alone.

"Whoa." George breathed.

"This place is as big as my whole flat!"

She noticed it had one colossal bed, but ignored the problem for the time being to explore. George eagerly dug through the bags for their wands.

Izzy had every intention of sleeping from that point on—whatever time it was-until the next day when the adventure began. That is until she went in the bathroom and saw the massive tub. She had no idea how to work those holes in it, but she was dying to soak in it.

"They have a giant pool!" George called from the other room. "Somewhere downstairs."

She did not answer. She was already running a bath, adding the bottle that said bubble bath to the water. The door behind her closed, she began peeling off her jet scented clothing.

It was only after she began to notice the sweet white foam getting out of hand that she read the bubble bath bottle: apparently, she was only supposed to pour in a couple cap-fulls. Opps.

There was a brief knock she barely heard over the faucet and George was already opening the door. In the second that it took for him to swing it open, a few things happened. First, Izzy realized she was totally naked. Second, she looked around for something to hide behind or grab in front of her, but nothing was in reach. Third, she made a high pitched yelp and leapt into the now overflowing mountain of suds.

It was so immense, only her head popped out of the top. She blushed.

George's eyebrows shot up. He looked at Izzy's head sticking out of the bubbles, then at her clothes on the floor, then back at her face. And he cracked up.

George Weasley could not stand up straight. He could not catch his breath.

"Shut up, you!" She threatened lamely, trying to throw a handful of bubbles at him. They only stuck to her hand. That made George laugh harder, sliding to the tile floor.

She tried her best to ignore, carefully hiding under her bubble mound as he tried and failed to collect himself. He rolled on the floor, clutching his side and staring at her. When he did manage to crawl over to the bathtub, an act that made her shy into the corner, he rested his arm on the side conversationally and said, "So, how is it in there?"

"Fine, thank you."

He chuckled. "You know, you don't look so indignant with bubbles on your nose." He wiped off a spot on her nose tip she had not known was there.

"George Weasley!" She slapped his hand away. "Get out of here. I am naked!"

"So?"

"So?!" She repeated.

"Well, you have sort of seen me naked." He tortured her, playing with the bubbles.

"I've seen your twin; it's not the same thing."

"Actually, it is the same thing. We're identical. Think how violated I must feel around you, knowing you know what I look like undressed."

"Go on!" She splashed him.

"Suit yourself." She shrugged with a smirk, getting up from the floor and leaving the room. "Close the door!" She called.

He ignored her. "George? Can you please shut the door?" She called louder.

"I don't want to," his quiet voice came from just the other side of the door. "In case you need anything."

She did not argue. It _was_ rather slippery with the overdose of bubbles. Staying in the bath just made her think how Fred had intended it for the two of them, so she did not linger. Taking extra care not to slip and give George a heart attack, she put on one of the bathrobes and went back in the bedroom.

George was sprawled out on the bed, having already figured out to work the remote control for the television, and was flipping channels.

"Anything good?"

"Confusing mostly. This man think aliens from another planet gave King Arthur his sword and these people," He flipped the channel. "Are all living in the same house for some reason I can't figure, but they get drunk and fight all the time."

"Hang on." She told him as she plopped down on the bed. "You'd like that show."

"What is it with muggles and space?" He asked.

"Muggles have actually been to space." She reminded him.

"But this looks like a western…are they robbing that place?"

"Yep."

"Wicked."

"I'm hungry."

"Er, I'm not entirely sure what to do about food." He admitted. She consulted the ever trusty bedside table. There was a menu.

"Room service. We can order up. I want an omelet."

She handed him the menu. "Steak dinner. And a pizza."

She snorted. "I'll call it in." She regretted that decision. Luckily, the menu said 'dial 7 for room service'. The rest was easy.

"Do you think it will be fun tomorrow?" George asked as they waited for the food. He was reading a brightly colored brochure.

She sighed, sitting back on the pillow. There was so much space between them and they were lying on top of the covers, so it didn't even seem strange, except that sometimes in the corner of her eye, she thought it was Fred.

"Oh course it will be fun." She did not sound completely convinced. "It's the happiest place on earth. Says so right here."

* * *

A/N: Do you know where they are? I hope this chapter was not boring! Sorry for any errors; I had less time to proofread. Anyway, what did you think of the bathtub fiasco? The plane? What trouble will they get into next? Please take a second to review and tell me what you liked/didn't like/ want to see. The next chapter should be fun.

Yours, Elsie


End file.
